


Enough

by chipperdyke



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brutally canon-compliant, Cheating, F/F, magic baby, no happy ending, s7
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-29 12:38:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chipperdyke/pseuds/chipperdyke
Summary: “You took a paternity test, and the baby’s father is not Hook?"





	1. Chapter 1

“You took a paternity test, and the baby’s father is not Hook?” Regina's throat was thick, and Emma nodded and reached for her.

Four years had felt like enough. Hell, one year had felt like enough. Regina was done, though, after four years. It felt like fate repeatedly loaded the dice against her. And it did, right - villains never get their happy endings. But why this way? Why now?

She could so clearly remember the smile on Emma's face when she told her she was pregnant. That _she and Hook_ were pregnant, like Regina was going to throw them a party. Which… Regina actually sort of did do, if breaking the washing machine by force of lustful, empty passion counted. Water had erupted from the broken pipe in the wall, and they'd ended up on the floor, Emma laughing with tousled wet hair and Regina… Regina on top of her, between her legs, owning her as she had from the first, in the only way that she ever had.

It wasn't like Regina was jealous, either. There was little to be jealous of - a broken marriage, cheap cologne, and absolutely no sense of how to remove makeup once applied. There was nothing to be jealous of. She didn't want what he had. She wouldn't want a wife who fucked her boss on the side, not even just on holidays but on every Wednesday and some Fridays, like they were on a fucked-up little schedule that they couldn't break.

Four years of flustered goodbyes and too-tight hugs and lies with lies on the side, _that_ had felt like absolutely enough. After Emma’s wedding, Regina had had enough.

But eleven? Eleven years, even three years after their son left to find his fortune? There was nothing of substantial interest in Regina's life except this, this addiction that she had no interest in breaking, except that it must be damaging her, maybe, in some corner of her black heart. And maybe it damaged Emma, too. She did say it hurt her.

Emma liked her speeches. The Wednesday ritual was interspersed with them. “I can't do this any more,” she'd say, and half the time Regina would close the blinds and corner her, because the power of being irresistible to someone, anyone, (Emma Swan) was heady and exhilarating. The other half of the time Regina would accept Emma’s ultimatum, and most of those times ended with one flushed Savior on her knees in front of the mayor's chair, eating pussy like it was the only dessert she was allowed. 

After that, Emma delivered her crime report and ran, as she always did, from Regina's office, as if the faster she went, the faster what they did would disappear.

How had it gone on for so long, with nobody the wiser? Certainly while Henry lived with her, Regina was discrete. But after Henry left, she didn't care at all. Or maybe, yes, she did want to be caught with two fingers inside Emma Swan and no alibi.

And Regina had tried dating websites, pretending she lived in Boston, enduring endless dinners and longer drives for no perceivable benefit. She'd tried getting blind drunk and going to a bar, sometimes the other way around, hoping that some poor loser would look enough like Emma that she'd have a reason to go home with them. She'd tried a _soulmate_ , the single longest collection of months during which Emma was vaguely faithful to her chosen beau. That's all Robin had felt like, even in the thick of whatever new love was. He was something Regina had to try, try with all her determination, because this - other thing - had to be damaging. Wasn't it damaging?

And now, Emma’d come back, three months after she and Hook had left Regina with Henry and returned to Storybrooke. She'd found them both in Tiana's war camp. She'd drawn Regina away from Henry and the rest, with a look of open anticipation. And now she was talking, something about true love babies and how she had never hoped for anything so wonderful. She'd put Regina's hand on her own stomach, and it certainly did feel like something was growing inside her.

Regina shook her head and removed her hand from Emma. “It's not a true love baby,” she told Emma.

Emma’s eyes were wide and hopeful. “But - I did research, in the vault, and it's possible for two women with magic to conceive, as long as they both want it.”

“Right,” Regina said slowly. “No love involved. Just magic,” she hissed, turning away. She could feel Emma falter.

“But you - you wanted it. It was the day before New Year's Eve, remember?” As if Regina could forget. “What were you thinking, that night?”

“I really can't recall what I wanted, dear,” Regina said sourly, studying the tree in front of her. “It was three in the morning and I think we finished a keg of cider between us.”

“I had to tell you,” Emma whispered. "I had to find you and tell you, because I love you, Regina. I need you, now. Please." She just couldn't stop talking. She never could.

“I hope you have another magic bean, to get you back to your parents.”

“Regina, seriously?” Emma burst out. She grabbed Regina's arm and Regina turned to her, feeling herself inflate with anger.

“Yes, seriously. My son asked me to help him. I'm off to get my happy ending, finally, after eleven years of it being denied me. Because I will never be happy in Storybrooke, not with you there, Emma Swan.”

“I'm separated from Hook,” Emma said, shrinking.

“And that is supposed to be your big - what - olive branch? What do you want from me?”

“This is - our - second child together. It's a girl. When Henry was there we always got along. Can't you - please, be there for your daughter.” Emma's lips compressed and her eyes swam with unshed tears. “That's all I want.”

Regina was unmoved. “Do you remember in Neverland, when I asked you what we would tell Henry?” Emma withdrew, folding her arms over her stomach and turning away, shoulders stooped. “You said - I still remember exactly. ‘Nobody can ever know about us. It was bad enough when you were just Henry's psycho mom. Now you're the Evil Queen.’ This was after you told me you loved me for ten minutes straight.” Regina studied Emma's back. “That was _ten_ years ago, Emma. And we had more sex in the past year than we did in the first. Nothing has changed,” she scoffed.

“Everything has changed,” Emma whispered.

“Why, because your pirate’s left you?” Experience had taught Regina how to differentiate between a "breakup" that Emma had chosen, and one that Hook had, and this one had his hook/hand all over it. Primarily it was Emma's chosen wording. 

“I want my daughter to know her mother,” Emma said, turning decisively.

The words thawed the ice in Regina's heart. “You would tell her she's mine?” Regina took a deep breath and watched as emotions flickered over Emma’s face.

When Regina couldn't wait any longer, she said, “You know what, Emma? Do what you want. Tell David and Mary Margaret. Go live with them on their little farm and _they_ will help you, Emma. It's too late for us. It was… it has always been too late for us.”

“But I love you,” Emma told her.

Regina had long ago learned to turn off that noise, but today it was particularly infuriating. “Oh, are you here for something else? Is three months too long to go without a good fuck? Or are you here to finally get me out of your system?”

Emma laughed a little. “Out of my system? Regina, you - you're literally inside me, all the time.”

“Don't you wish,” Regina growled. Now that they'd finished the hard part of the conversation, Regina was overcome with urgency. She transported them directly into her own walk-in tent. Her bed took up a full quarter of the floorspace. She pushed Emma toward it, unbuckling Emma's belt as Emma pulled up her own shirt, and Emma was flushed and watery-eyed and so pliant under Regina's greedy hands.

Once Emma was naked and horizontal, though, the urgency faded. Regina took her time down Emma's body, enjoying the taste of her skin, rolling her hard nipples between her teeth, relishing the sounds Emma made, the catch in her throat, the low whine when Regina left her breasts.

Her belly was much larger without clothes on. Five months. Emma watched Regina look at her, and when Emma opened her mouth, Regina dipped her head and traveled farther south, gently easing the outer lips of Emma's pussy open with her fingers and looking at the glistening wetness that awaited her.

She nuzzled the inside of Emma's thigh and then moved downward, straight to the source. She probed Emma’s clit with the tip of her tongue, tasting just the beginnings of Emma's wetness there, and then she let the tip of her tongue move down Emma's left side, where she was so sensitive. The wetness was thicker here, and Regina couldn't restrain a moan at the taste. This was where she wanted Emma, as naked as possible and in her bed, body open and all around her like a damn cocoon. She had the sudden wish for naked skin against skin, but - that could come later.

Emma’s shoulders were shaking, and Regina moved quickly downward, finishing at Emma's opening, where the wetness was so thick that it fully coated her tongue as she probed there. At the movement, Emma's shaking stopped, and she began breathing heavily, gasping into the open air of Regina's tent. Emma's hips rotated up and her opening gushed, and then Regina withdrew.

“Oh,” Emma breathed, sitting up, grabbing for Regina with needy softness. “Oh, my God, Regina, I love you.”

Regina caught Emma's hands before she grasped anything. “I am going to make you forget your own name,” she murmured to Emma.

“Please,” Emma breathed, and she lay back, goosebumps rippling down her legs. “Take me over and over. Please, Regina, I need you.”

 _I need you._ That was what Emma loved to say the most. The love was a lie, but need? Regina could begin to believe that. Emma needed Regina so much that despite everything against them, she could not stay away. She needed Regina because they were friends - that too. And she needed Regina to fuck her raw on a regular basis. Whatever was in Emma's head, it had certainly resulted in a bone-deep need.

Emma reached for Regina again, and Regina ordered her, “Turn.” She was far too handsy for Regina's liking. Emma turned to her side instantly, and Regina lay behind her, pressing her leather corset against Emma's back, letting Emma arch and present herself so nicely to Regina's hand. She'd already rested it between Emma's legs, enjoying the warmth and anticipation, but she withdrew when Emma's wetness found the side of her hand, instead taking advantage of her access to Emma's body. _I think you are tattooed on the inside of my skin,_ Regina thought. But - no, creepy incoherent outbursts were Emma’s domain, not Regina's.

She ran her hand up Emma's leg and again found her belly, unexpected in the familiar scape of Emma's body. _Our baby._ A swell of emotion choked her throat. Of course she had wanted it. Of course she wanted a daughter. A miracle daughter, for her and Emma, something that would help repair them, or even something that would tie and bind them. But that was lust-addled. Emma had broken their relationship before it had become anything. Regina couldn't trust what she said, because it all went up in smoke just as quickly. Emma would never be hers. Regina would never be anything but a steadfast friend and a huge, huge secret. 

She skipped over Emma's belly and grabbed her breast, sinking her teeth in Emma's throat when she bared it. Emma's wetness made a slick sound where she rode Regina's thigh, leather against plump pink flesh, and Regina considered pulling away but she enjoyed Emma's desire too much. 

She replaced the hand on Emma's breast with the hand she had under Emma, pinching her nipple mercilessly, unable to resist Emma any longer. She pushed Emma off her leg, where Emma left a wet trail on leather, and repositioned her body against Emma's, trying not to be rough with her, far too gone to know whether she'd succeeded.

And then she was two knuckles deep, and Emma’s body blossomed and grasped her, and the noise Emma made was something out of a cheap porn flick. “...Yes,” Emma finished, a long hiss, and then Regina stroked once and she cried out, and Regina had pressed their bodies too close and Emma was on her stomach, but that was almost better because Emma pushed up on her knees and into Regina's hand, and then they were fucking at a punishing pace, and Emma’s fingers tangled with Regina’s and she came, with Regina's name bursting from her lips like an epiphany.

And then Regina laid her on her back and tried her tongue again, and Emma told her, “This is the only thing that was ever real to me, Regina. Nothing else feels real at all.” And Regina thought, _This is the only thing I have, Emma, and it is completely broken._

When they were finally finished, it was fully night. “Henry must be wondering where we went,” Regina observed. Emma hummed in her throat and stroked Regina's hair away from her face, eyes still closed.

“You'll come back with me, to Storybrooke.” Emma sounded so certain. Maybe because she'd gotten her way so many times before, in the same way.

“I won't,” Regina told her softly. “If there was a time to fix us, it was long, long ago, Emma.”

Emma's eyes stuttered open. “You're going to make me go back, with your baby, and - and -”

“The pregnancy was a mistake. I didn't intend it, and you obviously thought it was your husband's child.”

Emma turned over, and Regina hoped she'd gone to sleep. And then she said, “I was pretty sure it wasn't.”

Regina was torn between fury and a sinking sensation. The logic didn't fully penetrate, but the horror clung to her. She waited, because Emma always explained.

“We were timing my cycles, and - I know that we didn't - so -”

“That's why Killian asked for the paternity test,” Regina realized aloud. So it really, really wasn't knowledge of her baby's parentage that made Emma go to Regina, because Emma had already known. She was ready to have the baby and raise it as Killian's, never telling Regina anything about it. She really was only here because Killian had left her.

“You may stay here,” Regina whispered. “For as long as you like. We don't need to tell Henry anything. But I will not be following you back to Storybrooke, Miss Swan.” She swallowed her hurt and stood, dressing with a flick of her wrist and looking down at the bed with Emma nestled in it, curled in on herself, deceptively peaceful. That was where Emma belonged.

Regina shook away the thought and dropped the silencing spell from the tent, and then she stepped through the flap to find Henry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swore I would never write an "Emma married to Hook" fic and look, what's this.
> 
> AKA magic baby scenario #72


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, much more interest in this than I expected. Ok, it will keep going...

Saying an affair lasted eleven years might give the impression of some sort of comfortable pattern developing, a regularity of calm familiarity that can only come with long-lasting relationships. That couldn't be farther from the truth of it. There were phases, some turning on the moon, on the seasons, on the years.

Three months after returning from their honeymoon, Emma and Hook “separated” for the first time. It lasted a week. The very best week of Regina's life.

Emma told her she left him for Regina. It felt like the sky had opened up. Regina hadn't realized how down she had been until the air was clear again. And she'd told Emma things that week that she regretted for the rest of her life. Things that Emma continued to use against her, even now.

That week was the reason that Emma was so certain that whatever she did, and no matter what Regina said to the contrary, Regina would always take her back. Always. That was one of the words Regina had said to her. Always.

The following Tuesday, Regina had opened the door of Granny's to the sight of Hook’s arm over Emma's shoulders and their lips locked together, and she'd turned around and walked away, the street before her a mirage of burning villages and screaming townsfolk.

She thought she deserved better. She knew that she didn't. But if one thing was certain, it was that her happy ending was not with Emma.

Regina set the teapot and cups on the bedside table next to Emma's head, and brushed her curls away from her face. Regina had been awake with her at five that morning, when she'd practically rolled out of bed and then retched literally all over Regina's carpets. “Do you have a bathroom?” Emma had muttered, instead of “Sorry,” and then she'd collapsed back into the bed and began softly snoring, leaving Regina to clean the vomit from the floor and, with a wet napkin, Emma's face.

Regina hadn't slept after that. She'd met Tiana at dawn and they'd both studied the war map. “I defeated a king in years past,” Tiana said. “A cruel king who levied high taxes and made no room for the poor. But Tremaine is another story. She has no magic, but she is clever and knows how to steal it.”

“Stolen magic can be strong, but it is never well-controlled,” Regina told her. “I am not worried.”

Tiana nodded thoughtfully, still looking at the map, and then turned to Regina. “Who is that woman you have in your tent?”

“A friend,” Regina told her. “Henry's birth mother. She is staying in my tent so that I can help her recover from her long journey.” She paused, steeling herself. “And she is expecting a baby. I thought it best to support her in this difficult time by sharing my tent, but if you have an objection…?”

“Not at all,” Tiana hurried to assure her. “I was just inquiring so as to know who it was that we had in our camp. As you may imagine, we have a strict rule against camp followers.”

“Of course,” Regina said, inclining her head.

After that, she made tea for the men, expecting Emma to wake and appear like a grumpy bear at her tent flap at the noise, but no such luck. As the rest of the camp broke down their shelters, she'd bowed to necessity and brought some tea and biscuits inside for Emma, and was now attempting to wake her without incurring the wrath of Emma awoken.

“Darling,” Regina whispered, rubbing her naked back and feeling her chest glow and melt. “My love, we are moving camp today and you must wake.”

Emma groaned and turned on her side, offering her back to Regina. Regina continued to stroke her, chasing the goosebumps down to her ass and then up to her scalp, scratching her head, too. Finally, Emma croaked, “Coffee?”

“You are pregnant, Emma. No coffee,” Regina said as gently as she could. Her fist clenched in her lap. Had Emma continued to drink coffee in Storybrooke?

“Fuck you,” Emma said blearily.

“I brought you some tea,” Regina told her.

“Pisswater. _Is_ there a bathroom?” Emma asked.

“A chamberpot. On the far side of those curtains.” Regina sat at the bedside and waited for Emma to finish, and then she showed her how to clean it with magic. By the time Regina had finished putting down her tent, Emma was gossiping with Henry and the rest of the men. And because Emma did not know how to ride, she rode double with Regina all day, and Regina was dizzy with the feeling of Emma's back pressed against her chest, Emma's waist between Regina's arms, her scent and her laugh and their hands, tangled on the saddle horn.

* * *

 

Two years ago was the longest of Emma and Hook’s breakups, and also the most recent. It might have seemed like they'd fixed their marriage’s problems, except that was when Emma had begun fucking Regina during their weekly meetings, week after week. Now Regina thought she knew why their marriage suddenly appeared less rocky. They'd planned to have a baby. They were trying.

The thought disgusted her. She'd long past gotten over her physical revulsion to their relationship. She was the one who didn't belong in Emma's bed - not the other way around, certainly not. But the idea that Emma was actively trying to conceive, at forty years old, to start a new family after Henry was finally out of theirs - it was stomach-roiling, offensive in the most fundamental way. It was better that she'd thought it was an accident.

It _was_ an accident. And… it wasn't, obviously, because Emma had wanted it so badly she'd gone to Regina for it, when Hook wasn't working.

She'd used Regina for it. She used Regina for everything she wanted. It was hard to imagine what, inside Emma, was growing, but it couldn't be anything less than a monster, to have come from such a toxic affair. How could Regina still see beauty in their bodies meeting, when it had led to an outcome like this?

* * *

 

That night, the hunters returned with two large deer and they roasted them piece by piece over the campfires and drank wine. Emma sat easily at Regina's side and ate the meat like it was all a game, and Regina smiled easily back at her. It _was_ all a game, make-believe, but they were friends and so they should be able to sit together and laugh, shouldn't they?

This was how the affair had stayed secret for so long. Because of how easily Emma could sit beside Regina and laugh with her. What an easy lie their friendship was.

Emma left Regina's side for a moment, and Henry replaced her on the log beside Regina. Despite having invited her to accompany him, he was distant. He felt different, not just older, but more reserved. She wondered if there was a secret he was keeping from her, but then he did things like come over and sit with her and she wondered if it was just because as her child, they had talked about school and meals and entertainment, and each of those topics had now changed so substantially that he had been robbed of his ability to communicate with her.

He probably thought the the same thing of her, too. She envied Emma’s easy way of talking with him.

After small talk about the food, Henry turned to Regina and said, “Hey, has she talked to you at all about what happened?” He nodded to Emma.

Emma was standing with her fists balled at the far end of the camp. Faux Hook was talking with her, his back to Regina and Henry. He'd finally cornered her.

Regina looked back at Henry. “Do you mean, why is she here? I think she and Hook are taking one of their 'breaks.’”

Henry frowned and rolled his thumbs against each other. “Yeah,” he finally agreed. “I bet. I thought they would stop doing this.” When Regina remained silent, Henry burst out, “Don't you think it's an asshole move for him to do this when she's pregnant?”

Regina shrugged noncommittally.

Henry said, “You and Ma are such good friends. Why don't you ever say anything about her and Hook?” He gestured to where Emma was still standing with Faux Hook, looking like she was about to flee. “Why don't you go rescue her right now? Isn't that what friends do?”

Regina sighed shortly. “Her decisions about her relationship are her own, and shouldn't be subject to public debate.”

“This isn't a public debate,” Henry argued. “This is just you, and me, and her, maybe. Why won't you say _anything?”_

“It is not my place.” Regina tried to loosen the tension in her shoulders, arching an eyebrow at Henry. “Why don't _you_ rescue her?”

But Emma had already brushed around Faux Hook. She stopped at the serving table and then sat heavily between Regina and Henry, throwing an arm around Henry.

The liquid in her goblet splashed out a little, and Regina snapped, “Is that _wine?”_

“Nope,” Emma said smugly, and Henry snatched the goblet, taking a sip.

He nodded to Regina and threw the rest of the wine into the bushes, and Regina grasped Emma's wrist in her hand and stood, dragging Emma up with her.

“This night has gone on long enough. Let's go,” she growled at Emma, and Emma ripped her arm away from Regina, eyes fiery like they so rarely were, lately.

“Let's,” Emma said, and Regina barely spared Henry a glance before following Emma to Regina’s tent.

Emma's noise-cancelling spell was barely in place before she rounded on Regina. The words spewed out like corrosive black tar between them. “This is why I could never date you. You're a controlling, hard-ass bitch.”

It was a familiar battleground. “What sort of filth would think sneaking a glass of wine in is in any way acceptable? I would never agree to a relationship with such scum.”

“You could never love me enough to have anything serious with me.”

“Who could love a child like you? I have never loved you.”

There was a time that Emma would have taken the offensive of in a different way. She might have grabbed Regina's hips and kissed her, pressed their bodies together and nipped Regina's neck. For years, Emma dominated Regina in sex. But time changed everything, and Emma took off her shirt and crammed Regina's hand down her pants and into the tight, sweaty and moist crux of her thighs.

Regina considered rejecting her. If she rejected her, Emma would have nothing at all. The possibility was unspeakably tempting.

But Regina couldn't leave Emma with nothing. And sex… sex was the only thing that Emma wanted from Regina.

* * *

 

Emma was riding the strap-on with focus, and Regina kept her eyes on Emma's face as she grunted in exertion. The skin between their bodies was slick with sweat and with Emma’s cum, but Emma wouldn't stop fucking and neither, therefore, would Regina. She tried thrusting upward in beat with Emma, which engaged her own clit slightly against the strap that ran along her slit, and Emma choked and sat farther upright, grinding down. Emma's clit nudged Regina's lower belly, and Regina grabbed her hips and thrust again. Their bodies made a smacking sound.

Emma reached behind her back and slid her hand up Regina's leg, and Regina raised her leg and offered herself.

Emma plunged into her with blind vigour. It was the first time she'd penetrated Regina since she'd announced her pregnancy, and Regina almost came with how right it finally felt, Emma’s fingers and her need and they were both thrusting, giving and receiving, and Emma was crying out like she was being skewered. She honestly was, because she'd magically enlarged this dildo three times already, beyond any possible human proportion, and Regina watched as the two or three slick inches of the phallus slid deeply inside Emma, and then out, faster and faster. Emma was so ripe and slick and took the incredible thickness like it was nothing.

Regina’s vision hazed. She grabbed Emma's hips and canted up, going on her own knees, and Emma fell back against the bed with a look of surprise. Emma's hips were still locked around  Regina's, but her fingers were trapped under the suddenly tight strap between Regina's legs. Regina thrust once, twice, and then she was coming hard, her own muscles rippling around Emma's trapped fingers, and Emma cried out raggedly in time with Regina's convulsions.

“Mmm, baby, I love it when you shout my name,” Emma whispered when she was done. “You came in me. Now make me come.”

Regina was trying to catch her breath, and pulled mostly out of Emma, which made Emma pout. She pulled Emma's hips to the edge of the bed and knelt there, her knees painful against the thinly carpeted floor, and then she drove into Emma until Emma was twitching and limp.

Then she unstrapped the dildo and flung it away from the bed, and fell exhausted into Emma's warm and waiting arms. Emma caressed her and whispered soft nothings which turned slowly into a song. Regina could only make out a few lines:

_After I had travelled so far, we'd set the fire to the third bar_

_We'd share each other like an island_

_And dreaming, pick up from the last place you left off_

Emma's voice was weedy and thin, but the melody was haunting and Regina watched her face, pink lips and flushed cheeks and eyes that opened suddenly and, finding Regina's attention on her, flashed happily in a smile that Regina could imagine was only for her.

When she woke up in the middle of the night, Emma was still wrapped around her and Regina nearly cried with how much she wanted this.


	3. Chapter 3

“She's gonna have your hair and your eyes and your lips and she'll be so beautiful.” Emma was laying with her torso propped up on Regina's, partially on top of her, and studying Regina's face. They'd woken up together at dawn, and Emma had made it to the chamberpot this time.

The early morning light set everything in white and blue. It made Emma look too pale, ghostlike, with bags under her eyes. She was as ephemeral as a whisper in this light.

When Regina didn't respond, Emma said, “When you see her, you won't be able to let her go. We’ll finally have everything, Regina. I can convince Killian to take me back -”

At that, Regina pulled away from her. The sheets twisted around her legs and caught under her waist, trapping her, and Emma slid behind her and wrapped her arms around Regina's body.

“Come on,” Emma coxed. “We have to have a beard. That's all he's ever been. You know that.”

Regina swallowed and finally untangled the sheets, dressing swiftly. Emma watched her from the bed.

When she was nearly finished, Emma said, “Why'd you get so mad about the wine if you don't care about our baby?”

“I didn't say I don't care,” Regina said. “And please refrain from toying with me for attention. Your pregnancy is not a game, and blatant stunts like last night will _not_ happen again.”

“So you're just going to disown her and keep driving me away? That's the noble path, is it?”

“I can't disown something that has never been mine. I refuse to extend the lie of our relationship any farther. We could both be Henry's mothers, and that was true. But I won't co-parent a child that you call Hook’s.”

“It doesn't have to be his,” Emma argued, weakly.

“She won't be mine. Emma, you've dictated every boundary, and every excess. But this, I will not budge on.” She paused at the tent flap, wondering if Emma needed help. She looked terrible.

Emma said, “When you see her, you'll change your mind. I'm going to give you something that nobody else could.”

Regina shook her head. “A war camp is no place for a baby. Or a pregnant woman. You need to leave before that happens.”

“I'm not gonna leave without you. I can't live without you. I felt like I was gonna die when you left. It was so much worse than Italy.” Emma referred to a long vacation Regina had taken with Henry before he left home. “At least then I knew when I'd see you again.”

“You've made the decision to live without me,” Regina reminded her.

“That was never the deal.” Emma propped herself up in bed. “Come back here.”

“There was never any deal. There have only ever been broken promises. I need to refresh the war map this morning. Call if you need anything.”

“I need you, Regina. Stay in bed with me. Please.”

Regina brushed through the tent flap and left her there.

* * *

“The late king’s excessive taxes made it easy for Tremaine to gain the support of the people.” Tiana was thoughtful. The morning was crisp, and she and Regina had stepped away from the map to sit by the gutted fires from the night’s feast. “When my army overtook his castle and I killed the king, we should have stayed in the castle. Instead I went back to my mother's estate, foolishly hoping that without a high king, we would go back to ruling our villages as we had before Richard took power. I didn't expect for Tremaine to step into Richard’s place. Soon, my mother and I were driven entirely out of my family's estate.”

“When you don't want power, it can be easy to forget that others do.”

Tiana tipped her head, and then nodded, unconvinced. “I still think it was my foolishness that allowed this to happen. And there's a larger lesson here, too… it's not just military might that will win this war. Tremaine’s support among the people is obviously less now, but in order to truly ensure that we are ruled justly, we need to do more than defeat her in the battlefield. We need to win the recognition of the people.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “That lesson, I've learned too well. I can help you.”

Tiana’s lip twisted. “Why are you so eager to help?”

Regina shrugged. “Why don't I tell you a little about my past.”

“Sure,” Tiana agreed, and Regina began with Daniel.

* * *

Emma's fingers were heavenly. When Regina had first met Emma, she'd never imagined that penetration could feel quite like this. That was when sleeping with Emma felt like winning, rather than losing. Regina had never thought that she'd look back at that time with wistfulness.

Regina was on her knees over Emma, and Emma responded eagerly to Regina's fingertips and her palm. Regina chased the orgasm, driving into Emma faster, but despite Emma's body's response, she wouldn't escalate her own touches to match Regina's.

Regina grunted in frustration and tried to thrust her hips, and Emma’s hand moved with her, unsatisfyingly. “Come on,” Regina coaxed, and Emma shook her head. “Please,” Regina said.

“Want this forever,” Emma murmured. “I missed your body.”

“You'll have me forever,” Regina promised, despite herself. “Fuck me.”

“I want to fuck for hours,” Emma moaned, but she flipped them over so that Regina was on her back. Regina's fingers slipped out of her. “Can I?” she asked, withdrawing from Regina and gesturing at her own crotch.

Emma had been obsessed with fucking Regina with a magical penis for years. It had all culminated in the longest breakup of her marriage, eight months during which Emma had practically moved into the mansion and had lived with the false penis for months at a time. Together they'd experienced her afternoon shadow and an even more insatiable sex drive than usual, and Regina had never known what to think - whether Emma actually wanted to be a man, if the fantasy of maleness was so far out of reach that it made the fantasy of a life with Regina feel more achievable, or if this was just a sex kink that Hook couldn't satisfy.

“Be careful,” Regina told her. “Only transform partially.” That was probably the reason Emma stayed that way for so long - the rearrangement of gonads was invasive and uncomfortable, and very, very real. But the elongation and partial transformation of Emma's clit? That was a much simpler proposition.

“Yeah,” Emma grunted. “I can, though, I can do -”

“Yes,” Regina interrupted her, hissing impatiently. “Right now.” With the penis, Emma was far more wanton, and Regina would get what she desperately needed.

Emma nodded and went to work, producing an exceedingly fine specimen - a comfortable size for Regina, and already at attention. This was definitely something that was only Regina's. She closed her legs around Emma's hips and drew her into a fierce kiss, and their bodies met, silky smooth skin and flexing muscles, and Emma's dick was hard against her until she thrust up. Emma responded instantly, and then she was inside, much deeper than her fingers could reach, and Regina felt her own muscles grip Emma's entire length.

It felt unspeakably good. Regina couldn't count how long it had been since Emma had done this with her, but Emma seemed to have missed it as much as Regina did. She began at a much faster tempo than she had ended with, and Regina rotated her hips and wrapped her legs around Emma's butt and found the thread of pleasure that Emma had repeatedly denied her.

“I wish I could come in you,” Emma growled.

“You can,” Regina gasped.

“I want to fill you and make you mine,” Emma said. “I want to leave myself inside you so that you'll never forget that I am yours,” and Regina pushed her away, out of her, and stood up, disgusted with herself and with Emma.

 _“That's_ what you wanted, two years ago.”

“What?” Emma was nearly indignant. She pulled the sheets over herself. “Did I do something?”

“You wanted to impregnate me.”

Emma scoffed, but something in her expression gave her away. Regina waited.

“Well, you weren't on birth control and we weren't using protection, and I started to think, how great would it be…”

Regina snarled, “Why didn't you say anything? Isn't that a decision I deserved to be a part of?”

“I figured you must be open to it,” Emma protested. “Otherwise you'd be on birth control.”

“I'm not. I didn't want another child, Emma.” Regina felt completely exposed. “I didn't then, and I don't now. This is your fantasy, not mine.”

“You wanted Henry.” Emma’s eyes were filled with tears. “I thought it would be a chance for us to start over.”

Regina shook her head disbelievingly, but Emma's tears did more than her words had. Maybe it was time to stop pretending that she could escape this situation by driving Emma away. Even if Emma would eventually leave, either way… this, the child, was far more real than any of the other moves Emma had made. If Emma wasn't serious, she wouldn't have kept the baby. Would she have? Emma was paying the price for her desires, regardless of whether Regina asked her to.

And the seed of the idea to get pregnant had started with Regina. Knowing that made the entire thing so much less repugnant.

“Would you have left anyway?” Regina asked her. Emma shook her head hopefully. Regina recognized the warped logic that often led to Emma's lies, but she slipped into bed beside Emma anyway, propping her head up on one hand. Emma found her other hand under the covers. And then Regina asked a question she had never asked before. “Then why did you leave?”

Emma looked cornered, but Regina didn't retract the question. Maybe she should have asked it long ago.

“People were noticing,” Emma said finally.

“That you were living with me?” Emma had rented a studio apartment in Granny's, but she hadn't even moved her clothing there. Regina's bedroom was a pigsty of piles of dirty and clean laundry, until Regina moved half of her own clothing into boxes and enforced order.

“Ruby knows I love you,” Emma said quickly, avoiding Regina's gaze. “I didn't tell her, but she figured it out a long time ago, and she looked in at my room and confronted me about it.”

“So you ran back to the pirate,” Regina said, voice low and gravelly in her throat. “To keep your secret. You didn't think if I was pregnant, I would want the father to take responsibility for the baby?”

“I thought we could just say I was helping you. Like - kind of like, now.”

“But with no baby, there's no reason for you to help me?” Regina swallowed her frustration. It had been years since she'd engaged with Emma's twisted logic. It was easier to keep her own head clear if she didn't even ask. Emma spewed explanations and excuses often enough as it was. “What if I faked a deadly illness? Would you stay with me then?” Emma flinched away from Regina's tone, and Regina made an effort to lower her voice. “Why isn't it enough that I just need you? And you need me? Why can't that be enough of a reason?”

“It is, Regina, it's enough. I'm not gonna go back to Storybrooke at all. I'm just going to stay here.”

“Emma, you can't. It's nearly winter. First snowfall will be next week. We're planning a major offensive.”

“Then I'll live with you in the mansion.” They'd circled entirely back around to Emma's original request, and Regina had lost all semblance of an argument against it. Emma knew it. Her eyes were glistening with determination. “I'm not leaving without you, Regina.”

Regina sighed. “They need me for this battle. The entire plan relies upon my magic.”

“Then I'll help you,” Emma said. She wrapped her arms around Regina's shoulders and nuzzled her neck. Her voice was muffled. “I want to help them, too. I would way rather be fighting beside you next week than -”

“If you stay, you will be far away from the front lines. We will leave you with a sympathetic family nearby.”

“Are you kidding me?” Emma protested.

“No.” Regina pulled away and pinned Emma in a glare. “You've decided you want to carry my child. I will protect you with every fiber of my being, which means that you will stay _away_ from Tremaine.”

Emma smiled a little. “All right,” she conceded. “That sounds nice.”

“Well,” Regina said. She was breathing quickly, and tried to dampen the emotion. “If I had less confidence in your ability to protect yourself, you'd be through the portal to Storybrooke already.”

“Whew,” Emma said, grinning. “I love you.”

“All right,” Regina said. She kissed Emma's forehead. Somehow their bodies had become tangled during the conversation, and she relished Emma's smooth legs against hers. She kissed Emma's temple, and her cheek, and Emma giggled and returned the light kisses.

* * *

 

The second time she met Drizella, Emma followed her to the meeting place. She burst from the forest before they'd even said anything to each other.

“What are you doing, Regina? Who's this girl?”

Regina recovered from the shock quickly and attempted to introduce the two of them, but Emma wasn't hearing it.

Drizella said, “Mama bear,” like Emma was a joke, but Regina saw magic jumping between Emma's fingers.

“I will be back,” Regina told Drizella. “Just a moment.” She transported herself and Emma back to the tent.

“I thought you were preparing for the battle. But you're sneakily meeting with - who is she?”

“Tremaine's daughter. She is being forced to marry a prince, and her mother didn't allow her to learn magic.”

“You're sleeping with her,” Emma said.

“She is a _child,_ Emma.”

“So what? I'm like your step-granddaughter. You like them young.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Regina knew Emma needed a stronger assurance than that. “I haven't slept with anyone but you since Robin.”

“Robin,” Emma spat. “You think bringing him up right now is going to help?”

“Listen to me,” Regina said, catching Emma's hands. “I have not wanted anything but you since the day we met. You have nothing to worry about. Stay here, and allow me to meet Drizella. I think I can help keep her from a very dark path. This is important to me, Emma.”

Emma studied her face. “I thought you had a thing with that - the mechanic’s daughter.”

Regina laughed openly. “I may not have squelched that rumor, but that's all it was.”

“You wanted me to be jealous?”

“Not -” Regina took a second look at Emma's face, which looked like a storm had just broken and sunlight was coming through. “Yes.”

“Fine,” Emma huffed, but it wasn't serious. “OK, go, do your little Obi-Wan thing, good fucking luck.”

“Thanks, Emma.” Regina rolled her eyes and transported back to Drizella.


	4. Chapter 4

“Henry, I'd like to introduce you to Max Page.”

It had been a grueling road trip from Seattle to San Francisco. They'd left that night, and only Henry had slept during the seventeen hour journey. Regina had deferred to Roni’s instincts and packed only a backpack’s worth of clothing and makeup, and two nearly maxed-out credit cards. Maybe it wasn't the exact presentation she'd wanted to make for Emma, the first time they'd seen each other in two years… but maybe it was right, to present herself as the usual, insufficient image she'd clung to under the curse’s influence… and her own, twisted version of what partnership might mean with Emma, through everything.

“Roni!” Emma exclaimed. The door remained just slightly ajar. “When I gave you my address I figured you'd be sending me a postcard from… dunno, Italy or something. Who's this again?” She eyed Henry with distrust.

“Henry Mills,” Regina said, steadfastly. Not like Mills was the name she'd given her son. Their son. She pushed the unwelcome thoughts away. “Sorry to drop in. Is this a terrible time?”

“N - no, not at all,” Emma said. A child's question rang behind her, inaudible with the distance. Regina’s heart lurched. As if to defy the child’s wishes (nothing had changed), Emma said, “Abigail is already asleep. How about I meet you at Mary's in about ten? I'll be right there.”

It was still light out, in February. Regina shrugged and guided Henry down the stairs.

His phone was epically dead, a consequence of taking Regina's shitty car rather than Henry's own. A Prius would clearly have compatible ports, but Regina's broken-down yellow Volkswagen wasn't up to the task. Henry had spent the last of his battery life crooning over an “awesome” ride “back to the eighties,” and had slotted his last cassette into the vaguely modernized audio player before drifting again into stupor. 

The signs over the Golden Gate Bridge had been instantly condemning. No toll? Or $5? Where would the bill be sent? Regina let Roni lead. Roni, who'd callously allowed her girlfriend to leave her after fifteen years’ memories of being loved and hated, worthless and without equal. Roni didn't care that the bridge signs seemed to require a fully legitimate registration on the yellow bug. She didn't care that the registration, by the magic of Balefire and poverty-driven lassitude, would likely lead somewhere in Houston, to some incompetent whose life would suddenly be $5 and a felony license plate behind. 

Henry paused at the foot of the stairs, befuddled by his lack of internet connectivity. Regina easily spotted the neon sign of Mary's, flickering like the twitching corpse of the life she'd decided, by whatever cruel fate, to cling to.

“Where are we, anyway?” Henry asked.

“The outer Mission,” Regina told him. She ordered three shots of bourbon and a Bud Light for Henry, who did not take shots particularly well. The bar was deserted except for a haggard bartender, who wore an off-color printed tee with the bar name on it. Tasteless.

“Want a smoke?” she asked her son after he'd enthusiastically imbibed something unmistakably far worse than British 80’s rock.

“Totally,” Henry agreed. “Yes, I think nicotine would definitely improve my mood right now.”

It wasn't until half the cigarette was gone that he said, “So, what are you here to ask Max?”

“To come back with us,” Regina told him. She'd need to get that memory potion for Emma, and for Henry. But first she needed the help of the erstwhile savior, in the Land Without Magic, because Regina was not equal to Gothel and Ivy and whatever arrangement Rumpelstiltskin may have with newly-imprisoned Tremaine. Maybe Emma could help Regina break the curse without the involvement of Henry and Ella. Or maybe they could remove the curse on Henry's heart, together. 

Regina had broken a Dark Curse with Henry before. It would be convenient if that could happen again. But Regina couldn't bet on it, not when everything was on the brink of chaos.

Emma caught them as they brushed through the doorway. “What are you having?” she asked Regina.

“Jim Bean on the rocks,” Regina said. “And a Bud Light for Henry.”

Emma flagged the bartender down, and then they sat at the round corner booth. 

Emma considered Regina suspiciously, and Regina licked her lips and said, “Max, I need your help. A recently-missing person has just been found, and I have reason to believe she is not who she says she is. I will pay if you need me to.”

“Woah,” Henry said. “Are you talking about Eloise Gardener?”

“Yes,” Regina said to Henry. “I think she's quite dangerous, but I can't substantiate it, yet. Em - Max is the best PI in the State of California.”

Emma was watching them with her lip twisted. “Dunno why you thought bringing a boy toy would help your case,” she said, with Max’s characteristic acrid bluntness. 

“Henry is a friend,” Regina said. The sleepless night and four shots caught up with her quickly. “Who generously offered to accompany me down here.”

Henry tried a smile, and Emma's scowl did not fade. “All right,” she said finally. “Tell me more.”

After an hour at the bar, Emma invited them into her apartment. She left Henry to pass out in the couch and drew Regina into her room. And then she backed Regina against her bedroom door and told her she hadn't been fucked properly since she'd left Seattle. Regina wanted to ask her what she thought she was getting when she left, but she was wary of losing Emma’s lips on hers and she stayed silent.

Was this consensual, with Regina awake and Emma mercifully, mercilessly asleep? Max wanted this as much as Emma did. As Emma might have wanted it, because she devoured Regina's lips like she was the Second Coming, and then she produced an enormous dildo and turned on the vibrator, pressing it against Regina's clit as she guided Regina's fingers into her hot, wet essence and Regina dove into her with a sense of loss, foreboding, and nearly overwhelming want the likes of which she could not remember since Emma had cornered her in the wine cellar and insisted that she couldn't have a decent New Year's until Regina fucked her dry.

* * *

A woman's cries (Roni's?) sounded clearly through the door, and Henry crossed his arms over his chest and turned again on the couch. Even if his phone was charged, which it wasn't, he’d neglected to pack headphones in the rush to leave Seattle. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Nope, it wasn't Roni originally, because there she was, growling something in a voice that made Henry confident that whatever Max had done, it would take quite a lot to come back from it. 

Henry shuddered and sat up, resigned. He scanned the living room, hoping that Roni had left her keys there. He might be able to sleep in the car.

Nope. He checked the fridge, finding orange juice and piles of take-out boxes, and some rotten veggies in the veggie drawer. 

He got out the orange juice, and when he turned around, a little girl was standing there.

He jumped. “Woah - hey,” he said. “Uh - hi. I'm Henry Mills.”

The girl was brown-haired, with big brown eyes that seemed solemn even in the uncertain light of the fridge. She was just a bit taller than Lucy, and willow-thin. She looked at him for a long time, and then she said, “Henry Mills. What are you doing in my house?”

Henry continued to stutter, and she said, “Did you come with Roni?”

“Yeah,” Henry said gratefully. “You know Roni?”

The girl rolled her eyes and flipped on the kitchen light. “She's my mom,” she said. 

Henry was dumbfounded. He followed the girl to the table, where she set down two glasses and then, businesslike, filled them both with orange juice.

“She said she wanted to adopt. I assumed…”

“It's not like we were ever a  _ happy _ family,” the girl said, eyes distant. “But she is my mom, and I wish we hadn't moved out of Seattle. Now Max has nobody to fight with. And Roni loves me more than Max does.”

“Wow, yeah,” Henry said, overwhelmed as much by the deluge of information as the factual tone it was delivered in. He wanted to ask if Roni was the girl’s birth mother, because the resemblance was really close. Even if the situation was not so obviously fraught, though, he knew the question would be inappropriate. He clamped down on his own curiosity, and instead said, “Yeah, we just drove down from Seattle today. She drove the whole way. Your mom is a force to be reckoned with.”

“I know,” the girl said. She sipped her orange juice, and then she stuck out her hand. “My name is Abigail.”

Henry shook her hand. “Very good to meet you, Abigail.” The name stuck in his throat. “You know, that was my daughter's name.”

“Was?” Abigail asked acutely. 

“A car crash,” Henry told her, wondering why it was so easy to talk with this little girl. She seemed weathered, a rogue element. It was all very weirdly normal-feeling. Of course Roni’s kid would be like this.

“I'm sorry,” the girl said to him, expressionless.

“Thanks,” Henry said, and drank his orange juice.

The cries in the room had reached a crescendo during their conversation, and now there was the vague sound of sobbing and harsh, barking words. 

“You can sleep on my floor. There's a rug. It's quieter.”

“Oh,” Henry said, rubbing his face. “Thanks. That would be great.”

* * *

Regina had nearly died of an acute burn during their third attack on Tremaine's troops. It was months after Emma had first appeared in Tiana's war camp. She'd walked straight into a stream of acid, and when she'd woken from her shock-induced black-out, she'd only remembered the shape of Emma, arms outstretched, white-gold magic bursting from her fingertips.

At one time, Emma had been nearly devastated by accidentally killing an enemy of theirs. But this magic didn't care about human life. This was war-magic, wielded by a woman about to lose everything. 

Regina hadn't known how Emma knew Regina was injured. She didn't know if Emma's exhaustion had been induced by the strain of healing Regina, or her slaughter of Tremaine's troops. It only occurred to Regina to wonder after she had already flung Emma through the portal, using the last known magic bean to send Emma to safety and far, far away from herself.

It had taken Emma by such surprise that any protest she may have made was sounded on the streets of Storybrooke.


End file.
